Grenade
by Skydive Off Isengard
Summary: SpeedyPrologue: The Foot and Purple Dragons team up for a heist of an antique building, and naturally are confronted by the TMNT. A fight ensues... until some Dragon rookie triggers an explosion that demolishes the building. Who's alive? ... Who isn't?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **_*wais* Sawatdee, ka! How ya goin'? Let's just get this on the table; this isn't a death fic. (Polygraph: *freaks out*) Alright, I lied. This is most definitely a death fic! Mwahahaha! If it helps any, I'm a firm believer in continuity. So... I'll let you figure that out. ;D_

**Disclaimer: **_*drops another penny into the 'Purchase TMNT Rights Savings Fund' coin jar* _

**P.S. **_Last thing, I promise. Don't let my past fics fool you; this is rated _**T**_ for a reason._

~3~1~4~

There's no excuse for a poorly timed kick. An ill-aimed punch. A less-than-adequate block. There isn't an explanation for missing a shuriken or throwing knife shooting squarely at your chest, or not noticing the silent enemy sneaking up behind you with his blade raised high. Sometimes it just happens, and there isn't a dang thing you can do about it.

For example, what do you do when your joints decide to lock up... just when a grenade lands at your feet? Pray someone will save you.

~3~1~4~

The place was a mess. The once proud historical building was nothing more than a shadow of its former self. The internal walls were collapsed, leaving the four primary walls to groan under the weight of the cracked, drooping ceiling. Clouds of senescent, powdery mortar sprinkled from fissures in the wood, coating the piles of debris that colonized the floor.

In the southeastern corner, against the wall, a mound shifted, causing dust to puff and swirl. It filled the air and cast a hazy shimmer over the dark brown of logs and old furniture, the black of charred wood, the green of skin. The pile shifted again. Three green fingers at the end of a green arm... twitched.

Within the mass of wreckage, a pair of eyes opened. They couldn't see anything, which currently didn't make much difference to the hazed owner. He shut his eyes again. No point in keeping them open when the only good was to get dust in them. Instead, he switched to his sense of feeling. He was laying face down, and his mouth was full of gritty dust. Yuck. He spit as best as he could. Nothing hurt yet, which concerned him. He moved his left fingers. Good, no pain. Then his right. Same result. He decided to risk moving his entire arm, and found that his left arm was stuck completely. Just wonderful. To his relief, his right arm moved without difficulty. He must be in a small cavity in the rubble. Lucky. Both of his legs moved, as much as they could in the barely large enough space.

Moving around a bit more, he eventually decided that he was fairly uninjured- until he moved his head. _Ouch!_ Nice little gash there. Lots of blood, he felt with his fingers, but that was typical for head wounds. That must be the cause of his lack of clarity. It was already clearing up. Now to free his arm, so he could work on getting out of his little cave. Already he felt a little lightheaded, due to the ever decreasing supply of oxygen.

His thoughts jerked to his brothers like a bolt of lightning. A surge of panic shot through his senses, and he gasped, sucking down more dust than he intended. The turtle coughed into the floor until his eyes watered and spilled over, leaving a dirty streak down his cheeks. Great! Now even more dust would stick to him. He wiped at his eyes. At least the tickle was gone.

He grabbed at his belt, located his Shell Cell, and yanked it out, simultaneously discovering that his pack was missing. A quick once over with his fingers told him that the Cell was undamaged- his second lucky break. None of his brothers answered. Two of the calls resulted in nothing but static, one rang unanswered. Severely anxious, and a bit frustrated, he jammed the cell back into his belt, hoping against hope that it would ring. Any second now._ I really need to get out of here._

With a bit of difficulty, he shifted so that he was laying on his right side, his trapped left arm extended above him. He figured that simply trying to pull it out was a bad idea, but he really needed to get out of there. He tugged. Immediately, icy fire sliced through his upper arm. He sucked in a quick breath, and found that the noise was a strange relief to his ears. Only now did he realize the pressure the complete silence had been building. "Ok, then. I'll just talk to myself. Mikey would say, "It's the only way to have an intelligent conversation, anyway!"" The turtle laughed quietly. He missed Mikey, and with the feeling his sense of urgency came back with a vengeance.

He scooted closer to the rubble wall and pushed up against the debris that buried his arm. No dice, but his arm was throbbing nice and painfully now. Where was his weapon? He could use it to pry the junk. He felt for it, and found that it wasn't there in the cavity with him. Probably took his pack and eloped. How typical.

Moving quickly and doing his best to block the pain, he moved his arm back and forth, attempting to widen the hole his arm was trapped in. It was working, but who knew the damage being caused to his arm. However, compared to suffocating, it was an easy choice to make. After a minute or two, he had managed to move his arm an inch, and it was loosening increasingly faster. "Come on..." With a final jerk and a crack of wood, his arm was free. It came out so quickly that his hand slammed against the opposite side of his enclosure. He reached over with his right hand and felt the wound on his bicep. His fingers met wood and wetness. "Well, isn't that nice."

Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain, he dug his fingers around the shard and yanked it out in one smooth motion. The breath he'd been holding came out a little shakily, but the wound felt a little better now, in its own way. The shard seemed to be about two and a half inches in length by one inch in width. _Who cares how big it is? No size shard feels good sticking out of your arm. I need to find my brothers._ He dropped the wood and pressed his hand against his bicep. Blood was trickling from the wound through his fingers, but not at an alarming rate. At least, it didn't feel like it. He relaxed as the pain gradually died down to a more tolerable level.

He realized that he could see a little, thanks to the now vacant spot where his arm had been lodged. A dim shaft of light was streaming in, and he leaned over to peer out. Rubble and more rubble. It was time to get out. He turned over onto his stomach and climbed into a crouching position. He pressed his shell against the beam that was the most responsible for his little cavity and threw his weight against it. Dust and fine mortar rained down, but the beam was moving. He grunted, as inch by inch, he was able to straighten his legs. The beam soon became lighter as it angled high enough for debris to slide from it and fall to the floor.

He broke free. Sunlight, although very dim, attacked his retinas and he squinted against the onslaught. Anything's brighter than pitch black. He tossed the beam off of his back and stretched, eyes instantly scanning for any sign of his brothers. A hand sticking out. A weapon on the ground. Something! Nothing. Inhaling deeply the fresher air, he refused to let his hopes drop. They were out there, and he would find them. No questions.

He turned his head to survey his arm. The wound was starting to clot, but still bleeding a little. He replaced his hand over it. He wanted to get right to locating his brothers, but the equipment inside his pack might be invaluable if the situation became dire. With a nod, he decided he would devote 10 minutes to search for it. If he couldn't find it, tough.

He bent down and began picking at the pieces of broken wood and furniture with his other hand, delving back into the pile of rubble under which he was trapped, careful not to get any more splinters. He dug deeper and deeper until his hand hit the floor. He felt around, and his fingers closed upon a different piece of wood. It was smooth, rounded, familiar. He smiled to himself. "There you are." He pulled his bo staff, fortunately unharmed, from the debris. He lovingly fingered it for a moment before sliding it into its rightful place on his back. Several minutes later revealed no pack, much to his dismay, and he couldn't spare any more time. He had to accepted the circumstances as they were. Repossessing his bo within his right hand, and with an air of adamantine purpose, Donatello began the quest of locating his brothers.

~3~1~4~

**A/N** _The end. ;D Not really. This fic is pretty much written for the most part. (Around 5,500 words. Pretty short.) I don't like the ending very much, but I don't think I've written anything where I have liked it. Like I said, it'll be kinda short, but I'm afraid I'll never get it completed if I try to make it longer. Well, lemme know what you think, if you feel so inclined. I'll upload the next 1,000-ish words tomorrow, maybe/possibly. :D_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Alrighty, here's the next part. Thanks to my reviewers, favoriters, and alerters! Btw, I've tried to keep it in Donny's POV, but I think I have a POV impediment, or something. I find myself switching all the time, and sometimes I don't even realize it until later. So... hope it isn't too confusing._

**Disclaimer**: _Once upon a time... there was a girl who ruled over all the TMNT universe... but that's a fairy tale and belongs in another category._

~3~1~4~

The urge to call out was nearly overpowering. He could fight off anyone unpleasant who fancied taking on the lone turtle... but that would be unstrategic, he finally decided. Leo would say something along the lines of, _"... alerting the enemy to your presence."_ Donny slid down a particularly large slab of wall, landing softly in a crouch at the bottom. His feet splattered in a puddle of liquid. _Probably a busted pipe... _The water that pooled around his feet crowded his vision. It was red. Breath lodging in his throat, he jumped back out of the puddle. Wide eyes followed the stream until it met with a leg clothed in black. Whoever was attached to the leg was crushed beneath the slab of wall Donny had just slid down. The amount of blood told him that there wasn't any chance that the person was still alive, but that didn't stop him from checking. He wished that he hadn't. Donny drew back from the sight, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The cut on his forehead twinged when his fingers accidentally made contact.

This was where the heart of the explosion had been, he now realized. Looking away from the blood he noticed several more bodies strewn about, Foot and Purple Dragons alike, none of them having escaped the explosion's destruction. And in the center of it all: the boiler that caused it; a massive explosion brought about by a single, misplaced grenade. Donny briefly wondered at the science behind the explosion, but his mind was too bogged down by other matters to ponder it for long.

Trepidation coiled in his gut. Mentally he tried to recall where each of his brothers had been. This was the western wing. _Someone was here... Who was here? _His right hand involuntarily clenched his bo, reliving the moments just before the explosion. His eyes shot wide open. _Raph. _He twisted in a circle, unblinking. A large mound of rubble was piled over against the wall. Donatello was there in two seconds.

"Raph!"He didn't care who heard him now. There was a small aperture he could see into, but it didn't look like the inside was very hollow. _Shell. _He'd have to start at the top and work his way down to best avoid shifting anything and possibly injuring Raphael further, were he even in there. Gripping a large chunk of wood, the young ninja yanked it from the top of the pile and threw it to the ground, whilst shoving his bo into his belt with his other hand. Debris rained down from above "Raph, if you can hear me, say something!" Desperate fingers tore at the pile, going deeper and deeper.

"Donny?"

Everything, including Donny's heart, stopped, his fingers prepared to launch what had been a piece of a settee from its resting place. The sound hadn't come from the rubble. He whirled around. "Raph?"

Raphael stepped out from behind what had once been a support beam. He was holding his right arm close. He was alive.

Relief flooded Donny like a tidal wave, and he eagerly dropped the chunk of furniture and was in front of his older brother in seconds. "Raph-"

Raph cut him off, speaking quickly. "I'm ok. Arm's broken, but it doesn't need set."

Donatello opened his mouth to comment, but Raph continued.

"I know where Mikey is, but he's trapped. I can't lift it alone. We gotta hurry." Knowing he need say nothing more, Raph took off at a light run, refusing to let the mind-numbing pain from his jostling arm better his will. He pressed his arm in closer to his stomach and did his best to ignore it.

Donatello shut his mouth at the mention of Mikey and ran alongside Raph, wanting to check out his arm and scan for other injuries, but relented to waiting.

Neither of them looked at the mangled bodies littering the floor amongst the debris. The dried blood and grime coating the bottom of Donatello's feet was _enough_ to make him sick. Were his mind not so focused on his brothers' safety, he just might be emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

Raph glanced sideways at his brother. "You ok, Donny?"

"I'm fine."

"Bleedin' isn't fine."

Donny shook his head, not an easy feat to accomplish while running, and with a possible concussion. "It's just a few scratches. I'm better off than _you_, anyway."

Raph grunted. It was as close to a smirk or rebuttal as he was going to get. He pulled to a halt and dropped to his knees in front of a massive, ebony wardrobe that had been thrown onto its back. The sides were broken and jagged; an entire corner had been completely blown off. Donny's heart skipped a beat. _He's under there?_

Raph bent down and peered underneath it. "Mikey? Ya still with me?"

The voice that replied was strained and breathless. Donny ached for it to be happy and go-lucky again.

"Yeah. Did you find Donny? Is he ok?"

"I'm here, Mikey," Donny reassured, crouching down, desperate for a glimpse of his baby brother. "And I'm fine. We're getting you out. Just hang in there."

A short laugh. "Not going anywhere."

The small jab of humor comforted Donny a little. At least his personality was intact. Squinting in the dim light, he could barely make out a vague outline of his younger brother lying on his shell. An old rocking chair had also been caught in the descending wardrobe's path, and the wardrobe rested somewhat on its crushed remains, taking some of the weight off of Michelangelo. It had probably saved his life. His head was directly positioned where the wardrobe was lifted the highest.

"Mikey, are you hurt anywhere?" Judging by the way Mikey's voice had sounded earlier, Donny knew he would dread the answer.

Michelangelo paused. "Well," he stopped for a breath. "My hand hurts pretty bad. I can't move it. And..."

Raphael was clenching his left fist. If he was thinking about doing to a certain Purple Dragon what Donatello thought he was thinking about doing, it didn't involve inviting him to tea and cookies. Despite Raph's fierce expression and stance, the voice that came out was soft, almost tender. "What, Mikey?"

"I..." Mikey coughed. "I think a piece of this stupid thing went through my leg. It's gone kinda numb."

Donatello frowned. "Is it still attached?"

"What? Yeah, my leg's still attached. Smart question, Donny."

Donny released a breathy chuckle, a combination of nervousness, pent up CO2, and Mikey being Mikey. "The piece of wood through your leg. Is it still attached to the wardrobe?"

"Oh... I think so."

Raph cursed.

"You shouldn't cuss, Raph. It's not good for you." His breathing sounded awfully loud to the two older brothers.

Raph's expression was angry and anxious, but his littlest brother softened it ever so slightly. "Sure, Mikey."

Mikey's voice turned serious, almost mature. "Guys, don't worry about the piece in my leg. Just get this freaking thing off me."

Donatello nodded, knowing there wasn't any choice. "Alright, Mikey." He hesitated, hating that he had to say what he had to say.

Raph said it for him. "It ain't gonna feel good, bro."

If they could see Mikey's face, they would've seen him rolling his eyes. "No duh, it isn't gonna feel good! It doesn't feel good now!"

"It isn't numb anymore?"

"I said 'kinda' numb."

Donny looked at Raph, shooting a concerned glance at his broken arm.

Raph's expression turned resolute, a fierce determination that put the agony in his arm to shame. Quietly, he said, "Don't think about _me_, Donny. I got this." With that, he gripped the splintered edge of the wardrobe with his good hand and waited for Donny to do the same.

Donatello followed suit. "You ready, Mikey?"

"Yeah." Michelangelo released a slow breath. "Let 'er rip."

~3~1~4~

**A/N: **_Unless I decide that I absolutely loath the next part, it should be uploaded tomorrow. Cheers!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Here's the next part! And... that's all I have to say. How lackluster._

**Disclaimer: **_The closest I am to owning the TMNT is owning a little Donatello action figure, complete with bench press and dumbbells. :D_

~3~1~4~

Raph stared straight ahead as he spoke softly, "One... two... three."

They simultaneously pushed off with their legs. The ebony wardrobe didn't want to move very easily, but with straining muscles and the inherent desire to protect what was theirs, they made steady progress.

Mikey gasped and tried to stifle any noises of discomfort by biting his lip. He did fairly well, until the splintered fragment of the wood in his leg caught, and he whimpered loudly before he could stop himself. He slapped his good hand over his mouth, sweat budding on his forehead to drip down his skin.

The two older brothers nearly dropped the wardrobe at the cry. Mikey, their baby brother, should _not_ be making those sounds. It was as wrong as dying in a car crash after surviving complex brain surgery. Their hearts thudded in their chests, arms straining under the ebony's density and their resolve to _not move at all._

"It isn't... numb... anymore..."

A shudder vibrated every nerve in Donatello's body. Who knew four words could be so appalling?

"Mikey-"

"No," Mikey bit out, all but forcing himself to breathe. "No, keep going. I'm... I'm ok." His harsh panting said otherwise.

Fiery pain was lacing its way through Raph's arm, but it didn't compare to the pain in his soul. Suddenly, all the hatred in his being turned towards the object grasped within his one hand. It _needed_ to be off of his brother! With a mighty battle cry, he mustered every once of strength he didn't know he possessed and threw it into his left arm, ignoring the pain in his hand cause by the jagged wood slicing into his skin. With Donny and his renewed strength, the wardrobe practically flew off of Mikey and smashed onto its other side, looking very dejected.

Donatello nearly fell flat on his face when the wardrobe, the object channeling his impetus was unexpectedly gone from his hands. He quickly recovered and knelt down beside his younger brother. "Mikey..."

Blood was spilling between the youngest turtle's fingers where he clutched at the wound in his thigh. "S-see? Piece of cake. Fast is... is good." Mikey flashed Donny his best attempt at a smile, whilst breathing deeply to replace some of the air that had been crushed out of his lungs.

Donny smiled as best as he could, the relief overpowered by anxiety. "You did well, Mikey." His eyes dropped to Mikey's leg. "Let me see it."

Mikey shakily pulled away his stained fingers and moved them to grip the wrist of his broken hand. He shifted his gaze upwards. "Raph?"

Raphael stood, as if glued, to the spot after flinging the wardrobe off of Mikey. He jerked his eyes to Mikey's. "Yeah?"

"You ok?"

Raph couldn't believe his youngest brother sometimes. He decided to try for partial honesty. "Sure. Just a little dizzy is all." Michelangelo's gaze had dropped to Raph's arm, and he looked about to comment on it. Raph smirked, cutting him off. "You're the one who got taken out by a glorified tree."

Mikey blinked up at Raph for a moment, eyes flicking from his arm to his face and back, indecisive about which topic to grasp onto. He suddenly broke into a grin. "At least it was a pretty tree."

Raph crouched down beside Mikey's shoulder. "Shell-fer-brains."

"Hothead."

"Doofus."

"Atomic mouth."

"Sorry to cut in," Two pairs of eyes moved to Donatello, who was trying to remain objective in place of the smile he would much prefer. "but do either of you have any bandages? I lost the bag with all of my medical supplies."

Both turtles shook their heads. Raph stood up, holding his arm tightly to himself. "I'll go check to see if any of them goons have any."

Michelangelo sadly watched him step over to a dead Foot ninja and check his pockets. Raph's movements were stiff and robotic. "So. What's the verdict, Doc?"

Donatello pressed a hand each to both the entrance and exit wounds in Mikey's thigh, wincing when Mikey sucked in a pained breath. "Well, it missed everything vital, except for your leg. You're either incredibly lucky or incredibly unlucky."

Mikey released the wrist of his injured hand just long enough to wave Donny off. "Please. I'm more of a 'glass is half full' kinda guy."

"_Who_ gets pinned under a _wardrobe_?" Donny teased.

"It happens to a lot more people then you know!"

"Oh, yeah? Where are the statistics to back that?"

"I'll google it when we get back."

"You do that."

The two shared a moment of silence. Mikey finally spoke in almost a whisper. "I hope Leo's ok."

Donatello worked up his faith before meeting the younger turtle's eyes. He smiled softly. "I'm sure he's fine. If anyone could survive an entire building blowing up and falling on his head, it's Leo."

Mikey laughed. "Yeah." His smile fell all too quickly. "But he would've come looking for us."

Donny attempted a lighthearted shrug. "Maybe he went to grab a couple pizzas first. That is where we were going before we found ourselves in this predicament."

The smile made a comeback. "Oh, right. That must be it."

Raphael promptly returned, bearing gifts of sterile whiteness. He handed the sealed bag that contained bandages and tape to Donny, who took it gratefully. "Great, Raph. This is good." Donny did his best to ignore the smudge of blood on the bag as he opened it and pulled out a roll of gauze. "Too bad there isn't any disinfectant."

Mikey held up a finger. "Or painkillers."

"I would've kept looking, but the rest of them guys was too..." Raph grimaced for the quickest of moments. "They wouldn't have been any good."

Donny nodded in understanding. "That's all right. We're lucky to have this." Winding the gauze around Mikey's leg tight enough to slow the blood flow but not enough to cut off circulation (a tricky balance), Donatello taped it off and moved on to Mikey's hand. After a quick inspection, he determined that the Metacarpal bones in his thumb and index finger were cracked but not broken. He reassured Mikey that with the proper treatment, his hand would heal, much to Mikey's relief. He securely tied Raphael's arm to his chest with the belt of a fallen ninja and wrapped up the jagged cut across his other palm. Donny then fastened off the puncture wound on his own arm and the cut on his forehead. He tucked the remaining gauze into the bag and resealed it, slipping it into his belt. He bent down and hooked Mikey's uninjured arm around his shoulders, carefully pulling him up to stand on his good leg. "You alright, Mikey?"

Mikey nodded. "Let's go find Leo."

~3~1~4~

**A/N:** _I googled people stuck under wardrobes... Results are inconclusive, but I don't see much hope for Mikey's argument. I did find an escape game, though! Those rock. Thanks for reading!_


	4. Final Chapter

**A/N: **_Last chapter! It's a bit longer than the other ones... but that's not saying much, as my other ones were pretty dang short. It felt better splitting it up like this, though. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorited and all that jazz. :D_

**Disclaimer: **_No, they're still not mine. If they were, the 2k3 voice actors would be doing the Nickelodeon version, and they wouldn't look like plushies. (Though, I can't wait to hear Sean Astin as Raphael!)_

~3~1~4~

"Aw, man!"

"What, Mikey?" Donatello steered them around a pile of demolished chimney, wary of jostling Mikey's leg.

The youngest turtle hung his head dejectedly. "I lost my chucks."

Raphael, leading the way, turned his head slightly back towards the two of them. "I lost a sai." He pat the singular sai in his belt, absent of its twin.

"Maybe we can come back later and look for them." Donny encouraged his easy-going sibling. _Not you, Brother. It's bad enough that you have to be subject to this carnage a first time._ He knew it must be getting to Mikey. It was sure as shell getting to himself.

Mikey nodded at Donny's suggestion. "Yeah, if the cops aren't here by then."

This caused Donatello to pause. He, too, had been wondering when they would show up.

They passed the erupted boiler, then the pile where Donatello had incorrectly assumed Raph was buried. The bodies were mutilated; most of them minus at least one appendage, some of them rent entirely in two. Donny wished they had gone another direction, if only to spare Mikey the scene. A raspy whisper suddenly jerked his attention to the right.

"Hey..." A cough, harsh and wet.

In a flash of motion, Raph drew his one sai and pointed it at the body they had wrongfully assumed was lifeless. The fallen Foot ninja was slumped against the remains of an old grandfather clock. He was missing his right arm to the shoulder, and his uniform was in shreds, as was the skin beneath it. By all rights, he shouldn't have been breathing.

"I-I don't... wanna fight..." He coughed again, and it was mingled with a snicker. As if he could've fought, anyway. "I need to... ask... you freaks... s-something."

"Well, not with that attitude, dude!" Mikey said lightly. "We're not saying anything until you agree to be nice."

Donatello had to hand it to Mikey. That he could show resistance to the violence and even produce _humor_ in a situation such as this... it was baffling.

Apparently the Foot ninja thought so, too, for his response was a ragged chuckle. His shoulders shook with each breath as he laughed, genuinely amused. As his heart rate increased, the amount of blood in his body decreased. "Alright, f-fair enough." His features were hidden beneath the black mask, but his voice was coming out with much difficulty. Donatello figured he didn't have but a couple minutes left on this earth.

"What is it you wanted to ask?" Mikey twisted so that he could better see the man, and Donny adjusted their stance to let him. Donny was glad for Mikey's soft heart. Despite all the pain and suffering they'd been put through by the hands of the Foot and their psychopathic Master, a dying man was still a man, and he deserved his final words.

The Foot was quiet for a moment. Donny briefly wondered if he was gone, before he spoke up suddenly, and with a strength he didn't previously possess, urged by the drive to learn the answer to the question he had been pondering for a long time.

"We, under Master Shredder, we've been... been fighting you for years now. Obsessively fighting you. And what I want to know is... why?" His remaining hand reached to his dark mask, grasped it, and yanked it off. He was around 30 years old, features baring traces of Asiatic ancestry, and eyes as bright as the day he was born. "Why h-have we been sworn to kill you? Why does our Master... hate you so much?"

It was Raphael, who until now had not moved, that answered. He lowered his sai slightly and leveled the man with an even gaze. "Because he's driven by a need for power. So much, that it chokes him if he can't have it." His eyes burned into the eyes of the dying Foot ninja. The mere thought of their enemy set his blood on fire; his breaths began coming in quick, angry bursts. "And he doesn't care who he steps on in order to get it. He hates _us _because we challenge that. Because _we_," he motioned to himself and his brothers with his sai, "We don't believe that any one person should have that much power. Not at the cost of everyone else!" He made a sweeping motion, weapon in hand. "What kind of place would the world be if it was dictated by someone like that?" He retorted, angrily shoving his sai into his belt. "It'd be Hell, and we already have one of those."

The man stared at Raph, saying nothing. His eyes misted, even as his pallor morphed into an ashy gray. Suddenly, he laughed. A wet laugh that brought red to speckle his lips and tears to the corners of his eyes. The laughter quickly died down and left a soft smile, full of understanding, regret, and acceptance. Slowly his head fell back until it rested against the frame of the clock behind him. "I think..." He was having trouble drawing oxygen. Blood you wouldn't think he could've spared trickled from his mouth and dripped down his chin. His voice slowed, becoming airy. "I've been.. on the... wrong side..." One final exhale, long and deep, and the light died from his eyes.

Donatello was filled with a wave of sadness. The loss of a life, even when lacking an established attachment to that life, left a sort of aching, hollow feeling. Life was precious, sacred. Once it was gone, truly gone, it wasn't coming back. Seeing that man now dead, where less than a minute ago he had been a unique individual, with his own desires, emotions, aspirations... it was horrifyingly surreal. Donatello was pained, and felt a touch guilty, at seeing similar thoughts reflected openly in Mikey's eyes. He wanted to comfort his younger brother, say something encouraging, but no words came to mind.

"At least he went out knowing the truth about Shredhead." Mikey observed softly, watching as Raph stepped forward and shut the man's forever unblinking eyes. The action relieved him, for whatever reason.

"If you can call that good, knowing that your entire life had been a lie." Donny winced. _I'm sorry, Mikey. I didn't mean to be so pessimistic._

"I know that I'd rather go knowing instead of in the dark."

Donny looked at Mikey, then nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

"I'm sure he did too, Mikey." Raph stepped closer to the two of them and looked them each in the eye for a brief moment. "Come on."

~3~1~4~1~5~9~

They had been trudging with difficulty for the better portion of thirty minutes, now. This little building was turning out to be more of a museum, or so it felt, what with all the debris and rubble to navigate through. Their minds had all but gone numb to the bloody bodies littering the grounds. With each corpse they passed, gratefulness for each other's survival increased exponentially. It also stirred the pit of boiling anxiety in their guts, the longer it took them to locate their eldest brother. Surely, surely they should've found him by now.

They'd reached the front of the building about fifteen minutes ago, and were now steadily working down the parallel wall. A few more minutes and they'd reach the front door, so to speak. That's when Michelangelo saw the gleam of silver reflecting in a single beam of sunlight streaking from the cracked ceiling. "Leo!"

Raphael and Donatello also noticed the blade lying discarded on the dusty, dirty floor, and the pronounced lack of green was like a rock in their stomaches. Raph ran ahead of the hobbling duo, grabbed up the katana to verify that it was Leo's, then threw himself at the rubble, overturning with his good hand any scrap of couch or wardrobe large enough to completely conceal a humanoid mutant turtle.

Raph was hurting himself, that much was obvious. They needed to trade places. Of the three of them, Donatello was in the best condition. "Raph," Donny raised his voice when Raph didn't respond. "Raph, listen to me! You won't be doing anyone any favors if you injure yourself beyond the possibility of helping!"

After flinging an old cabinet off to the side, Raphael stopped, breathing heavily. Taking in how Raph's chest heaved with each breath, how closely he pressed his broken arm into himself, Donatello could only hope his older brother wasn't about to pass out. He surely looked like he was. "Take Mikey, Raph. I'll dig."

Mikey jerked his attention to Donatello at the mention of his name and the sentence that finally processed, his eyes-only sweep of the immediate area producing no satisfying results. "Hey! I'm not useless, you know. I can help. Leo might be down there!" He moved as if to shift away from Donny's supportive shoulder.

Raph, who had begrudgingly accepted Donny's point, took Mikey's arm from around Donny's shoulders and slung it around his own. "Ya can, Mikey. Keep your eyes open for surviving Foot and Dragons."

The youngest turtle muttered something about 'useless' and 'boring'. "Why can't you just set me over-"

"No."

"Geez, touchy." Mikey twisted his neck to dispel a crick that was making itself known, keeping his eyes trained on Donny despite his 'job'. "If any of them made it, they probably got out of here already."

"Maybe, but don't write them off."

"Fine, whatever."

Donatello threw himself at the pile of rubble. Chunks of ceiling, walls, antiques, the floor, and anything else he laid his hands on were flung to the side. Inch-by-inch he worked his way down, not even stopping to consider what might be down there. The thought of his own flesh and blood buried was all the fuel he needed.

Raph sucked in a breath. "Wait, Donny..."

Donatello slowed down only marginally.

"Leo lost a katana earlier."

"What?" Donny bent his knees to wrap his arms around a large railroad tie-sized beam.

"He lost it _before_ the explosion! So he's probably not even around here..."

_Not here? _Donny twisted away, releasing his grip on the beam to deposit the wood off to the side-

"_Donny!_"

The steel of a blade flashed from the newly-opened cavity and thrust across Donny's unprotected left shoulder. It bit deep, only coming to a stop when it met resistance from both his plastron in the front and his shell in the back. He gasped, staggering back a step, even as a sai found itself embedded within the attacker's chest.

The Foot Ninja was dead instantly. He fell forward, and with him, the katana held in his death grip jerked from Donatello's shoulder, clanging to the ground.

The sudden loss of blood threw Donny's head into a spin and he fell to his knees, dreading the moment the pain would hit. He clutched at the laceration, trying to stem the flow of blood that now poured freely from it, slicking down his arm, coating his chest, and catching in the lip of his shell so that it dripped down to the floor in a steady stream. The expected nausea was swelling at a terrible speed. He was loosing too much blood too fast. He was going to pass out. The world was spinning. He couldn't get his eyes to stay open. Gravity was shifting. He was falling forward.

Leonardo was there, catching him. Donatello slumped in his embrace, his head resting on his older brother's shoulder, barely conscious. _Leo... you're okay. _He could feel the vibrations in Leo's chest as he spoke, urgently it seemed, with Raph and Mikey. _We're going to be okay, now. Leo's..._ And his thoughts stopped.

~3~1~4~

There was a buzz. Not like an caffeine buzz. No, this was more like an auditory buzz. One of those annoying buzzes that just won't _shut up. _And yet, the buzz was familiar. Annoying, for sure, but kind of... endearing. An endearing buzz? What did Donny know of that was annoying, yet simultaneously endearing?

"Hey, Raph, I think he's waking up!"

Then the buzz was right next to his ear.

"Are ya awake, Donny?" Something poked his arm. "Helloooooooo?"

Donatello managed a mumble. "Quiet, hornet. I'm taking a nap."

"Hornet?" Now Mikey sounded panicked. "Raph, I don't think he knows where he is!"

Donny could only smile and he cracked his eyes open. "I know where I am, Mikey." His little brother's face zoomed in close to his quick enough to make him go cross-eyed.

Worried, inquisitive eyes blinked behind an orange bandana. "Are you sure you know?"

"Of course." Donny deadpanned, raising his right hand to scrub at his face. "We're in that alternate dimension that April's uncle Auggie's device sent us to." He peered through his fingers. "Did I get stung?"

Michelangelo looked as though he were about to have a panic attack. "Raph-!"

"Relax, egghead. He's just playin' with ya." Raphael, arm in a sling, smirked at Donny. "Welcome back, bro."

Donatello allowed Mikey to help him up from the infirmary bed and into a sitting position. _The infirmary..._ Life blood flowed into his veins through an IV line. _April must have been here._ Pain suddenly shot through his shoulder, and he reached up to grab it, finding it bandaged. "Ouch..." He waved off Raph and Mikey's worried looks. "It's fine. I just forgot it was there."

Leonardo appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion, saw Donny looking at him and smiled. "Hey, Don. How're you-"

Donny's eyes widened, the image of Leo appearing to catch him just before he passed out sprung to mind, and he sat up straighter, still holding his shoulder. "Leo! Where'd you come from?"

Leonardo thumbed back over his shoulder, blinking innocently. "Uh, the kitchen?"

"No, I mean," Donny shook his head, remembering too late that there was a wound there, too. He stopped immediately, shutting his eyes. "Earlier, when you... You just came out of nowhere."

"Oh, that." Leo sat down on the bed next to Donny and met his questioning gaze.

Donatello then noticed that Leo didn't seem to be injured at all. He was relieved.

"I had been pinned under a large portion of the ceiling. Something holding it up shifted and I was able to get out. Then it was a matter of finding you. Didn't take too long." Leo sighed, crossing his arms and tilting his head back with his eyes closed, smirking fondly. "I have the noisiest brothers."

Mikey, perched on a second, spare bed, interjected. "Good thing, too! You could've been walking around there for ages like we were."

Leo's smirk faded, his eyes dropping to his knees. "Don, I'm sorry. If you hadn't been looking for me-"

Donatello, seeing this coming a year ago, stood abruptly, wary of the IV line, and stretched his muscles. "I don't want to hear it." He cut Leo off casually. Donny planted his good hand on his hip, twisting his neck around to grin at his baffled oldest brother. "Besides, how do you know I wasn't just looking for my pack? I have some important stuff in there, you know. A highly developed GPS device. My bluetooth headset. Night vision goggles." He sighed, sitting back down. "Listen, Leo. If I wasn't willing to take a sword or bullet, or even an explosion, for one of my brothers, then I don't deserve to _be_ a brother. Besides, you do it all the time."

Leo opened his mouth, then shut it. He wanted to protest, that was obvious, but ultimately he conceded, but whether it was simply for Donny's sake alone, Donny wasn't sure.

Michelangelo, uncomfortable with the lapse in conversation, leapt from his seat, remembering too late his bandaged leg. He shifted his weight to land on his good side, but overbalanced and hopped on one foot in a limbo, feeling gravity desperately trying to pull him to the floor. When he was sure he was about to lose the fight, a hand was grabbing his arm to steady him. It was Raph's. Mikey sighed in relief. "Whew. Thanks, Raphy-boy!"

Raphael only smirked as he leaned back against the doorframe, wrapping his good arm around the one in a sling. "Egghead."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Leo pulled a Shell Cell from his belt and handed it to Donny. "I borrowed it when I called April to ask her to come get us. Mine was totaled."

"Ah," Donny intoned in mock cheer. "I'm guessing I'll have to rebuild everyone's then?"

Leo was sheepish. "Sorry."

"Hey, can you build a MP3 player into mine this time? Oh, and a touch screen! With GPS and infrared, and-"

Donny tossed his Cell at him, expecting him to catch it. "You'll be lucky if you get one at all, Mikey."

Mikey reached out to grab it with his right hand, before realizing again, for the umpteenth time that day, that his fingers were fractured, and just barely managed to catch it in time with his left. "What...?" He indicated the phone.

"We never got pizza, did we?"

The youngest turtle's expression brightened at the mere mention of pizza, and needed no more encouragement.

"Just one thing."

Mikey paused halfway through entering the number.

"Make sure it's delivery."

~3~1~4~

_The End._

~3~1~4~

**A/N: **_I would say that I don't like the ending, that I'm not happy with it, that it deserves to be buried under a large rock, but I won't say that because it'd be pointless since I'm posting it anyway. I think it's about as good as it's gonna get. *sigh* If anyone has tips on how to END their fics, drop me a line. *slaps self* Not gonna complain anymore. Nope. I LOVE my writing! :D -_-_

_Btw, about the continuity thing I mentioned in the first chapter. I don't like to kill the main characters, because I feel that if I did, in the next story I wrote, that character would still feel dead, like I should write him dead. "Oh, I know he died in my last fic, but here he is again alive! *:D*" Besides, I don't like the emotional ringer that puts the other main characters through. Anyway, I must stop talking! Bye now._


End file.
